


Speak My Name

by pica



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, Hand Touching Is Strong With This One, M/M, Pining Kirk, T'hy'la
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8505889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pica/pseuds/pica
Summary: Spock tries to persuade Jim about some highly professional matters. Jim is easily persuaded - he just wants to touch hands with the vulcan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! :D this is my first (actually second) time posting a story in english AND posting a K/S fan fiction, so I hope you won't be disappointed too much. It's all about loving t'hy'las and the vulcan hand-touch, really, you won't find much else here. Just tried to explore the characters a bit with one my favourite Spirk ~~kinks~~ tropes  <3
> 
> Please PLEASE let me now if there's something wrong with the language or grammar so I can improve my english - I don't have an english beta-reader so I'd appreciate anyone's help. Thanks for passing by!

The automatic doors slid with a soft, familiar hiss and the captain found himself instinctively raising his eyes towards them, glancing at the opposite end of the room with a slight hint of surprise showing through his parted lips and the frowned expression – he was not used to having his crewmen breaking into his personal quarters without asking for permission first, especially when he had made clear to all the ship that he was not to be disturbed while he was busy going through a _literal_ ton of diplomatic documents in prospect of the Enterprise's next mission.

Staring at him in front of the now shut door, however, he found the last person he'd expected to see.

(Or, he corrected himself stretching his back against the chair with a brief smile, the last person he'd expected to see walking that door _without_ contacting him through the intercom first, rules and regulations being extremely important for that specific vulcan.)

"Mr. Spock," he called him, a brief smile he never managed to keep in place curving his lips. "What brings you here all of a sudden?"

Spock returned his gaze without looking away, not a trace of guilt or regret on his face. With his hands methodically joined behind his back, he started talking – as always – as if they were both on the bridge, in front of the other crewmen, with their roles and an urgent need of professionalism to keep them distant.

"Pardon the intrusion, captain, but I highly recommend you take advantage of the shore leave to take at least a few days off."

Jim instinctively raised his eyebrows, surprisingly taken aback for the second time since Spock entered the room.

Was he really so focused on his work the he forgot about the shore leave? A shore leave that he himself _ordered_ to his crew since they'd been traveling in dark, outer space for far too long to even keep count of the days and months passing by.

He wondered why Spock came to him so suddenly, without asking for permission and – now that he took a moment to stare at his face – looking so impatient about it.

He couldn't help but sigh, and then smile while he turned off the computer's screen and finally decided to raise from the chair – if anything, to take the opportunity to walk a few steps towards the vulcan, since he didn't seem to have any intention of abandoning his position.

"Why, _doctor_ Spock, have you taken Bones' place and nobody told me anything?" He teased, knowing all too well that Spock wouldn't get the irony.

"I surely don't wish to be Dr. McCoy's double," said the Vulcan, leaving Jim wonder, as many other times, if this was to be considered as the vulcan's vitriolic sense of humor or if he just honestly meant it. Jim was used by then to spot any sudden, tiniest change in his eyes or body movements, but sometimes he couldn't to anything but accept his incapacity to fully read his thoughts, even if defeat was not something he admitted so easily. "I'm merely stating reality: you have a serious and very evident need of rest, and I'm sure the doctor would agree with me."

Jim nodded, slowly accompanying his words – and skillfully hiding his delight when, at the end, gazing at him, Spock raised an eyebrow, incapable of deciphering the meaning of his silent gesture.

"Are you saying I'm not functioning as efficiently as I should?" Jim asked candidly. He loved doing that – teasing Spock's logical rules of conversation with rhetorical questions to which, he knew, he would have responded every single time. It was, as the vulcan would put it, most fascinating.

Spock raised the other eyebrow and inclined his head on one side, briefly pausing – _pondering_ , thought Kirk, not without delight – before finally giving his perfectly logical, practical answer. "Not at all. You just look pale and tired. Perfectly understandable for someone in your position."

"You're just worried for me, then?" Jim took a step towards him, casually closing the distance between them. He now had his hands joined behind his back as well, a mischievous grin upon his lips.

He didn't fail to notice that Spock's silent pauses were stretching by the minute.

"And for the ship and crew," Spock corrected, "as they require a captain in perfect condition to function properly."

"Yeah, thought so." Jim gave him an understanding smile, then moved forward again.

Spock didn't falter, didn't move. "So you agree to my advice?" He just asked, as if, whether given a positive answer, he would just turn around, walk through the automatic doors and leave him alone. Jim knew better that this would not have been the case, though – if anything, he would have never permitted it.

"I'm sorry Spock, I can't leave the ship, someone has to look after her."

"Then have someone _look_ _after her_ while you take one or two days off. I'm sure... _she_ wouldn't feel offended of betrayed, since she has no capacity to feel or convey emotion, let alone be conscious of your affection for her."

Jealousy, Jim knew, was not a sin for which vulcans could be easily imputed, and yet he sometimes amused himself by thinking – maybe hoping, even if he was aware it was just a silly, childish fantasy – that Spock could, in fact, be jealous of his _beloved_ ship.

He smiled at the thought.

"I don't know, Spock..."

"I'll take the responsibility, sir," he heard Spock say, not a trace of hesitation in his voice. "The Enterprise will be in good hands until your return."

"Yeah, I know it will. But what about my shore leave?"

"What about it, captain?"

"What kind of rest is it if I'm all alone down there?"

"Sir?" This time the pause was considerably longer, in a way cautious, and Jim watched silently as Spock lips parted, his eyes searched Jim's for just a moment, tightened with renewed doubt. "I believe there will be plenty of crewmen. Most of them are already off the ship, Dr. McCoy is among them." It was his attempt to fill an uncomfortable uncertainty with the most practical explanation that came to his mind – something so simple and logical that Jim was sure sounded inevitably redundant in the vulcan's mind, but definitely not the answer he was hoping for. 

And that was precisely the maximum level of consciousness that Jim could hope for from him. He kept a smile to himself – sometimes it felt like hopelessly talking to a child, yet he would never dare to tell him.

"Yeah, Spock. Plenty of crewmen," he repeated, a small sigh escaping from his lips. And then a step closer. "But what about," another one, their eyes now linked as if belonging to one another, "you?" Nearly a whisper.

Vicinity and Jim's closer, lower voice didn't seem to affect the vulcan in the least – on the contrary. "Here to wait for your return, captain," he stated, most practical. "Vulcans don't need much rest as you humans do. I'll be perfectly fine."

Jim nodded, his lips tight, a resigned _Of course_ painted across his face.

"That's not what I'm saying, Spock."

"I'm afraid--"

"You're afraid you don't understand, I get it, I get it."

And he did, really. Patience became an art while dealing with Spock, and time and affection made Jim the finest, most skilled sculptor in the whole galaxy, taking measures of their distances and lengths, finding ways to carve even the strongest stones into beautiful, perfect shapes that could adapt to them both.

He didn't look away from Spock's eyes while offering him a thin, secret smile, and then moved a hand forward, slowly, only to gently brush it against the sleeve of his uniform. It was always like that that they looked for contact – a hand, sometimes just fingers, a light, exploring touch, as if every time they felt the need to explore each other's territories all over again, just to be sure.

Spock didn't move – not yet. Jim's touch became a little more consistent, indulging longer on the vulcan's arm. He couldn't seem to look any other way than Spock's eyes.

Then, just like that, without saying a word, without discomposing any other muscle, Spock parted the hands joined behind his back, paused motionless for a moment, and then, finally, let his arms fall along his sides.

Jim smiled a little deeper, unreciprocated – he liked to egoistically imagine Spock was smiling as well, somewhere deep in his heart or mind.

He let his hand slide down along the vulcan's sleeve, without hurry, eyes still locked in his. He stopped for a moment only when his hand met Spock's wrist – the first portion of skin, the first touch he could _really_ feel under his fingers – and then just went on, further down. He joined his index and middle finger and brushed them lightly against the back of Spock's hand, as was the vulcan custom – one he learned to appreciate with time and dedication.

That was the exact moment when the light in Spock's eyes changed – as if glimmering, and then coming to life, animated from just the touch of Jim's fingers upon his hand.

"I mean this," it came out from Jim's lips as nothing more than a whisper, confined into the precious intimacy they silently built between their combined bodies. "You'll be perfectly fine up here, but I won't be perfectly fine down there. You know, alone."

"Oh," Spock uttered, no other sound coming out of his mouth.

Jim grinned, victory and the most loving affection urgently bumping against his chest, almost making him impatient for more. He cherished Spock's amazed, suspended silence almost as much as he was drawn to his adamant logic – the transparent, efficiently satisfied expression he made when all his calculations led to the inevitable and, as such, most effective answer, and then this one, as if a fatal error in the equations disrupted all his beliefs and final assumptions – they were both equally attractive to him.

Jim smiled delighted at the sight, and Spock _of course_ saw him smile, and tightened his lips, still looking for his lost composure.

"I understand," Jim heard him say, just the smallest hint of what he would have labeled as nervousness corrupting Spock's otherwise perfectly steady statement. "Captain, if the thought of having me accompany you on your leave will make your rest days more pleasurable and effective, I shall do as you wish." He finally found the right words to return to him.

Jim nodded, his smiling eyes speaking gratefulness for him – but it still wasn't enough.

"Spock?" He called, pensive, while conveniently sliding his fingers up and down along the back of the vulcan's hand.

"Yes, captain?"

He couldn't help but notice that the slight tremble in his voice had already disappeared – nothing less to be expected from his First Officer, his vulcan – his _t'hy'la_.

Jim moved a little closer before parting lips. "Can I... just make a little request?"

"Of course, captain."

"You've been studying human history, culture and habits for a long time now, so you know of this little habit of ours to enjoy romanticism during intimacy, right?"

Spock paused for a moment, tilting his head to the side, clearly not expecting _such_ matters to be brought out in _such_ a situation. (And Jim _did_ try to wonder what better situation than this to talk about humans' love habits – as expected, he couldn't come up with any satisfactory answer). "I believe I've observed it more than once," Spock replied, almost cautious.

"Alright. So you will understand if I ask you to stop calling me 'captain' when we are alone?"

Spock – _of course_ \- raised an eyebrow, and then the other, and stared at him for a long moment. Jim just smiled, waiting.

"I... assume you'd rather have me call you Jim."

"Correct."

Spock looked away for an instant, slowly nodding to himself as if absorbed in thoughts – _which_ thoughts Jim had no idea, but he sure would have given the universe to know. After just a couple of moments, however, the vulcan stretched his shoulders and moved his eyes back to meet Jim's, as if filled with new understanding – newly acquired awareness.

"As I said before, I shall do whatever pleases you," he just said, and if Jim hadn't known him for a _very_ long time, he would have no doubt mistaken his plain, unemotional tone as a cold formality. He knew it was not. " _Jim_." Yes, he definitely knew.

"Thank you, Spock," he said, barely able to contain the massive smile that was threatening to devour his face. "Much better."

Spock's reply was an almost imperceptible movement of the head, and yet all Jim could see was the subtle light in the vulcan's eyes, the way it seemed to be drawn to him, unable to let him go – as if glimmering in place of his restrained emotions.

Their hands joined – both of them, gently entwining one into the other, a perfect combination reflecting the very essence of their bond. Jim had to stretch a little on his toes to reach Spock, but he didn't mind after all. Spock would always silently adjust to the distance, welcoming his mouth with the warmest, softest lips Jim had ever had the pleasure of touching. He couldn't help but smile against the kiss, feeling the crazy beat of his heart bumping against the vulcan's chest.

He forced himself to move back only seconds later, the sudden void between their lips already filled with longing.

"We're off, then," he said, his voice so low he could hardly hear himself.

Spock didn't say anything, didn't move. He was just staring at him as if looking at the most fascinating mystery in the whole universe.

Jim found himself slowly starting to crave for that shore leave, after all.


End file.
